You're Not Alone
by themountainsarecalling
Summary: Merlin and Arthur get lost on a hunting trip. When Merlin falls ill, Arthur cares for him and learns a bit more about his friend. As you may recognize, the beginning is from season 5, episode 3, taken in a different direction. This is my first fanfic-I would adore reviews! Banter, friendship, bromance. Sick!Merlin, caring!Arthur. No slash. I do not own Merlin.


"Ah-choo!" The dark-haired young man's sneeze echoed in the forest glade. He sniffed and wiped his hand under his nose as he glanced at the blond knight riding beside him. "You're still angry with me, aren't you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We spend the entire day hunting and catch nothing, because every time we got anywhere near anything, you sneeze and frighten it away."

"Not the last time," the dark-haired one protested.

"No, that time you fell into a stream. No one can accuse you of being predictable, Merlin."

"I think I'm getting a cold," Merlin said.

"Let's hope it's a bad one," Arthur grumbled.

While it irked Arthur to have nothing to show for a full day of sport, Merlin was always secretly glad when no innocent animals had to die in order for Arthur to display his prowess. He knew the king's mood was worse due to the fact that they had already gone far out of their way in pursuit of the deer that Merlin had startled by slipping on the wet stones near the stream, and it was much later than they had planned to be out. So Merlin kept quiet, knowing that his king's bad mood would soon pass. Besides, his scratchy throat made it easier not to talk.

Before long, however, Arthur reined his horse to a stop. Merlin did likewise, raising an eyebrow at the young king. Arthur looked around the clearing, then up at the sky, then at his manservant. "Uh-that way," he said, pointing over Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin raised his other eyebrow. "Are you telling me or asking me?"

"I am the king of Camelot, Merlin. I do not _ask_ such questions." Arthur hesitated, then said slowly, "But if I did..."

"We're lost," Merlin stated. It was definitely not a question.

"Well, if these clouds weren't blocking the sun, I could get my bearings. But it's getting too dark to follow a trail." Speaking of the clouds, they were beginning to drizzle a cold, gray mist.

Merlin groaned in dismay. Normally he would have been paying more attention, but his heavy head and aching limbs had kept his mind off the trail.

"Well, there's no use moaning like a bullock with a bellyache. We'll just have to find a place to spend the night." Arthur nudged his horse forward. "Come on, let's find some shelter. Looks like it's going to be a bad night."

"AH-CHOO!" was Merlin's contribution.

They found a place to bivouac under an outcropping of rock, relatively dry and somewhat cushioned with fallen pine needles. Merlin did his best to start a fire, but the wet wood he had been able to gather sputtered and smoked.

The two young men pressed as far under the shelf as they could. Still, the rain was falling heavily now, and rivulets streamed over the edge and dripped through the boys' clothes and hair.

"Well," Merlin said, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, "at least we won't die for lack of water." He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a hunk of cheese and bread. Arthur took his portion sourly, commenting, "If I'd have caught anything, we'd be having roast meat for dinner."

"Yes, and if we hadn't gone hunting at all, we'd be having a hot dinner by a roaring fire in Camelot."

"Shut up, _Mer_ lin."

"Prat." Merlin muttered, but was broken off by a sudden, harsh cough. He rubbed his throat, then held out his bread and cheese to Arthur. "Here, you can have mine. I'm not all that hungry."

Arthur looked from the food Merlin offered to the dark smudges under his servant's eyes as Merlin covered his mouth with his arm and coughed again. "All right," Arthur said. "We may as well try to get some sleep. I'll take the first watch and wake you when it's your turn." He watched as Merlin curled up as close to the fire as he could, pulling his jacket over his head. The fact that he hadn't even tried to protest or give a smart answer told Arthur just how miserable his manservant must be feeling. He had no intention of waking him later-they were still well within Camelot's borders and he feared no attack. He would stay awake as long as he could, then sleep until dawn gave him new light to find their way, without disturbing Merlin. Arthur finished the hunk of cheese he had torn off, saving the rest for morning, then checked to make sure the horses were securely tied before settling on the other side of the fire.

MMM

A gradual lightening awoke Arthur early next morning. But it was still raining, and nothing like actual sunlight pierced the clouds. Arthur stretched his cramped limbs and glanced at his manservant, who was still in an uneasy slumber.

A deep cough suddenly shook Merlin's thin frame. He rolled over onto his stomach, folding his arms over his rib cage as he hacked. He moaned slightly as the fit passed. "It's morning," he said, his voice muffled against the ground. "You didn't wake me."

"And a good morning to you, too, Merlin." Arthur's concern mounted as Merlin rolled back over and he noticed the flush tinging Merlin's face, even though he was shivering. Arthur reached out and laid his hand against Merlin's forehead. "Gads, you're hot as a forge."

"I'm fine." Merlin's voice was rough. He winced and closed his eyes against the light, faint as it was. "I'll ready the horses in a moment, sire."

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. You're in no state to ride."

"I'm _fine_ ," Merlin insisted, scrubbing his hand over his eyes. "We need to get back. Gwen will be worried, and Gaius...I have to help him with his chores...and I'm sure you have...kingly tasks..." he breathed deeply, trying to suppress the cough he felt welling up in his chest.

"Alright," said Arthur, and Merlin was surprised at his easy acquiescence until he added, "If you can sit up for two minutes on your own, I'll let you get the horses ready."

"Of course I can sit up," Merlin grumbled, pushing himself upright. Almost instantly, though, his head swam, and he rested it on his knees. "Still sitting," he mumbled.

"Don't be an idiot, Merlin. Lie down. I'm not getting stuck out here with you with a fever _and_ broken bones because you couldn't stay on your horse. Gwen and Gaius and 'kingly tasks' will have to wait." Merlin started to argue but was cut off by another round of coughing. He lay back, exhausted. "All right...I'll rest...for a while."

"Fine," Arthur agreed. He watched as Merlin's eyelids slid closed and his labored breathing became evenly spaced, except when punctuated by coughs. Arthur rose and ventured out with his crossbow to try to catch something for a hot meal. Maybe he would have half a chance without his idiot servant scaring everything away, he said to himself.

It was past noon when Arthur returned, he estimated, although the pouring rain and heavy clouds were still keeping him guessing. He had managed to shoot a rabbit and was hoping that Merlin would be able to instruct him in how to stew it-and that a morning's rest would have done his manservant some good.

Arthur's footsteps crunched in the leaves and twigs as he approached their campsite. Merlin started up at the noise, his hand outstretched. "Stay back!"

Arthur halted uncertainly. Merlin stared at him, eyes glittering with fever. "You can't take our crops, Kanen-we-we'll fight you-"

"Merlin, it's me, Arthur." The king took a step forward, and Merlin fell back, panting. Arthur placed his hand against Merlin's forehead. He was even hotter than before. Arthur bit his lip as Merlin tossed restlessly and moaned, "Will...it should have been me...Mother, I'm sorry...I...left you alone..." he trailed off. Arthur knelt beside him. He unclasped the red cloak from around his shoulders and draped it over his servant. The rainwater had pooled in a small depression in the rock, and Arthur loosened Merlin's neckerchief, dipped it in the water, and laid it on Merlin's forehead. Merlin stopped tossing and breathed more easily. Arthur sat down beside him with his sword across his knees, his stormy eyes warning off all attackers.

MMM

Night had fallen again. Arthur had continued to tend to his servant as best as he could while Merlin slipped between troubled sleep and fevered ravings. His own eyes were growing heavy when he heard a slight stirring, and Merlin, his voice a faint croak, whispered, "Arthur?"

Arthur sat up and grinned. "Well, it's nice to hear you call me that."

"What?"

"You've called me several other things today...Will...Mother...Freya...Morgana..."

"I've had...such dreams..." Merlin pressed his hand to his eyes. He winced as he coughed shudderingly. "One about an anvil on my chest, but it still feels like that one's true."

"Here." Arthur held out a bowl and spoon. "Lucky that you had cooking supplies in your saddle bag. I wouldn't have thought you'd pack them for a day's hunting trip."

"I've been on enough of these things with you to know it's never just a day." Merlin pushed himself up against the rock wall. He started to lift the spoon, then put it down and looked at Arthur. "You cooked?"

"Well, I've seen you do it enough times. I was guessing somewhat, but think I got it about right. It's stewed rabbit."

Merlin lifted the spoon once more but still eyed Arthur. "You didn't try to gather any mushrooms for it, did you?"

"No."

"No strange herbs?"

"For God's sake, Merlin, it's just rabbit meat. Try and eat something, will you? You look like a scarecrow that's been left out through the winter." Arthur was satisfied to see a smile flicker across Merlin's face as he began to eat.

"Speaking of herbs," Arthur said, "I found some of those in your saddle bags as well. I didn't know if any of them could be helpful."

"Coriander and horehound. Ground into a tincture and taken in hot water." Merlin rattled off this information almost without thinking, having spent so much time observing Gaius. Arthur stirred the fire and began heating water in the pot. He dug in the saddle bags for the herbs Merlin had mentioned.

Merlin finished his stew and tucked his hands under the cloak that covered him, pulling it up to his chin. Then he noticed the gold Pendragon crest on the red cloth, and the fact that Arthur had nothing covering his chain mail. He pulled it off held it out to him. "Here, you'll need this back. No sense in us both getting ill."

"Nonsense, Merlin. I'm not such a girl's petticoat as to let a bit of damp and chill get to me."

"Interesting, because I'm not such an arrogant ass as to think myself impervious to the elements." Merlin continued to hold it out, but he had already begun to shiver again without its warmth. Arthur pushed his hand back. "Honestly, Merlin, you need it more than I do." He began grinding the herbs between two rocks.

"Merlin," he said suddenly, "Who is Freya?"

Merlin was suddenly very still. "What?"

"Well, I knew all the other names you said when you were dreaming, but not that one."

"She was a girl I knew." Merlin stared into the fire.

"From Ealdor?"

"No." Merlin watched as a twig snapped in the flames, sending a trail of sparks into the sky. "She was...lovely. Kind, gentle, trusting. Curly brown hair, perfect brown eyes. She didn't smile very much, but when she did, it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Everything seemed brighter and better because of it."

"I never knew." Arthur's expression was unusually open and attentive. "You said 'was.' What happened to her?"

Merlin blinked against the tears that sprang to his eyes. "She was taken from me too soon."

Arthur nodded and looked down. "I'm sorry, Merlin. I know you've lost too many who are dear to you. I know what it is to lose a loved one. Which is to say-" the young king shifted uncomfortably, "-if you ever need to talk or anything-well, you're not alone." He held out a cup of the steaming liquid he had prepared.

Merlin wrapped his hands around it and breathed in the soothing steam. "Thank you." Arthur nodded, then cleared his throat awkwardly and busied himself cleaning the pots. Merlin sipped the tincture, already feeling its warm drowsiness spread through his limbs. "Arthur," he said suddenly, "did I say anything else while I was dreaming?"

"Nothing much. Only," he laughed, "there was some ridiculous raving about how you can speak the magical language of dragons, and used it to save me from the wyverns in the Fisher King's Castle."

Merlin smiled weakly. "Right. Ridiculous."

MMM

Merlin woke himself coughing the next morning...again. "I won't miss this when it's over," he groaned to himself. He lay quietly for a moment, breathing deeply, and noticed that while his breath still rasped in his chest and he still felt like his lungs were full of gravel, his head was clearer and his heartbeat slower and steadier.

Suddenly, he heard the sounds of hoof beats and jingling armor. Arthur sprang to his feet. "Stay here," he hissed as he drew his sword. Heedless of the order, Merlin struggled to his feet and followed Arthur up the embankment. A voice called, "Halt, and be recognized!" But Merlin broke into a huge grin. He recognized that voice.

"Sir Leon!" Relief was in Arthur's voice. Merlin made it to the top and found himself looking at the grinning faces of not only Leon, but Percival, Elyan and Gwaine.

"Sire! Merlin!" Leon sheathed his sword, and all the other knights followed suit. "When you didn't return, we feared some trouble had befallen you. Lady Guinevere and Gaius were nearly beside themselves-it was all we could do to keep them from riding out with us. I can't say what a relief it is to find you safe and sound."

"Whoa!" Gwaine reached out to steady Merlin, who suddenly swayed on his feet. "More or less, anyhow. You alright, mate?"

"He's ill," Arthur said before Merlin could respond. "He'll have to ride back with someone."

"I don't need to ride with someone," Merlin protested, but was met with a chorus of "Shut up, Merlin."

"Honestly, mate, you look like hell," Gwaine told him.

"Knight or not, I'm not brave enough to face Gaius if we let you ride back on your own," Elyan added.

"You can ride with me," Percival said.

Merlin held up his hands in surrender, knowing it was useless to argue. Besides, getting home to his own chambers and Gaius's healing care was sounding better by the moment.

They headed back to the campsite and gathered their things. Though he wouldn't admit it, Merlin was glad to simply relax as they began the ride home. The steady beat of the horse's hooves and jingling harnesses almost lulled him back into sleep. These soothing sounds, however, were interrupted by an explosive "Ah-choo!"

Merlin twisted in the saddle to see Arthur rubbing his sleeve under his nose. "Sire," he said in mock surprise, "surely you didn't allow a bit of damp and chill get to you? You wouldn't be such a girl's petticoat."

Arthur glared and wiped his nose. "Of course not, _Mer_ lin. I'm fighting fit."

"Whatever you say, Sire," Merlin said with a grin.

"Idiot," Arthur grumbled.

"Prat."

"Ah- _choo!_ "


End file.
